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From our vantage point, hidden behind the open entrance doors, I can see the kitchen is ten times larger than the one in the Mission, with stoves the size of furnaces, built of metal instead of brick and stone. The smoke rises into giant vents that look like silver mouths, instead of fireplaces and chimneys.

And there is no Bigger standing at the kettle.

Sadness wells up inside me, but I put it off.

Not now.

I eye a grating in the wall next to the vents. Doc. I look around for other signs of surveillance, but there is too much going on in the enormous room to tell.

Ro takes off toward the back of the room. I duck my head to follow him, sliding beneath the long, metallic
counters, where they store what looks like sterilization equipment.

We remain, for the moment, unseen.

“What now,” I hiss.

“You saw her hands.” Ro looks past the corner of the counter that hides us. “She’s a weird one.”

“And?”

“We need to find where they keep the garbage.”

I shrug. “So we follow whatever smells the worst.”

A kitchen worker walks by us, dragging a huge black bag that reeks of manure. Ro wrinkles his nose.

“Exactly.”

In no time at all, the stench leads us to the garbage dock. I can see it, through the swinging doors of the kitchen ware-house. I can also see a Sympa patrolling it.

“When that door opens again, we go.” Ro seems happier than I’ve seen him in months.

I nod, then grab his arm. “Ro.”

“What?”

“Can we trust her?”

“The silver girl?”

I nod. “It seems too easy. This.” I glance toward the dock. “What if it’s a setup?”

Ro sighs. “You met her. You tell me. You’re supposed to handle that department.”

“But I trusted Lucas, and I got us into this mess.” It’s
an apology, and not a particularly good one. But it needs to be said, especially before we fling ourselves into a barge full of garbage and guarded by at least one armed Sympa.

Ro winks. “I forgive you, Dol-face.”

Then, without a word, he takes off running and I have no choice but to follow.

I rush after him, crouching low. We race toward the barge, finally sliding between a mountain of slimy black bags swarming with flies and practically pulsing with an indescribably putrid smell.

I close my eyes and freeze, waiting for the Sympa to fire.

I hear nothing.

Ro peeks his head out from inside a bag that has split in half. Something that looks like old porridge smears across his face.

I hold my breath. We don’t make a sound.

The smell is overwhelming, worse than sleeping in the stables, and it’s all I can do to keep down what little food I managed to eat.

The barge begins to vibrate beneath us, and the garbage shifts. The engine starts, groaning and rumbling to life as the barge lurches into motion.

“It’s moving,” Ro whispers. He smiles, in spite of the garbage.

I shake my head, crossing my fingers beneath the mountain of limply rotting lettuce and old bread crusts.

That’s when the engine cuts.

Then we hear loud voices and the heavy, thudding footsteps of military boots.

I uncross my fingers as we dive deeper beneath the piles of black bags. Then, muffled by garbage, a familiar voice booms across the barge.

Catallus.

“Doloria. Furo. I’m afraid you’ve gone the wrong direction. Understandable, since you’re new here. Anyone could get lost on the way to my classroom.”

I pull myself up to the surface of the garbage.

“We’re not going anywhere with you,” Ro shouts, poking his head above the sea of garbage sacks, trying to look dignified while covered with rotten food.

I can see him looking for something to use as a weapon, but the only thing in our reach is an entire Embassy’s uneaten breakfast.

Colonel Catallus smiles. “Of course—you could always stay here and take a little ride, but I’m not sure it’s preferable to our class. Where do you think they take this trash?”

“Wait, let me think. Your house?” Ro grins. “No—your mom’s house?” He’ll go down trying. He’s long past caring what people do to him.

I stay silent.

“See those smokestacks across the bay, on the mainland? That’s where we take the trash. Right into the incinerators. They help power the Projects. So I guess it
would be good to have your contribution via the furnaces, but I think we could make better use of your talents in the classroom.”

Colonel Catallus motions and the barge begins to grind backward, toward the docks. He wobbles with the sudden movement, adjusting his position on the side of the barge, above us. “I’m surprised Tima didn’t tell you, especially seeing as she made the same mistake, the first time she tried to run away.”

Ro and I look at each other.

Suspicions confirmed.

“Come on, Ro,” I say, struggling to get out of the garbage. “We’ve been played.” And worse, rescued by a demon.

Colonel Catallus pulls a white square of handkerchief out of his pocket, holding it over his nose. He waves the handkerchief in the direction of the Embassy.

“The others are waiting. It’s time we had a talk. Now.”

April 10, 2068
•
New York City, New York

Officials at the United Nations have claimed success in diverting the asteroid Perses from impacting Earth.

The joint project of the major economic powers announced today that Project Kratos, consisting of a series of pinpoint warheads launched in 2067, scored a direct hit.

The director of Project Kratos, Alexis Asimov, said: “Our goal was to split Perses into smaller pieces that would fly harmlessly around Earth, and all our data shows the mission was a complete success. We will continue to monitor the fragments to ensure our data is correct.”

Not everybody is convinced, however. Many citizens hold the entire story to be a hoax.

Others believe the asteroid is still coming, including those who say Perses is a holy messenger of God, come to purge Earth of greed and inequity.

Of course, we aren’t allowed to wash up, after the garbage disaster. Colonel Catallus is teaching us a lesson; at least, I imagine that is what he thinks.

The joke is on him, though. We’ve grown used to the stench, Ro and I. Not Catallus. He looks like he is going to pass out, just being in the same hall with us.

And now it appears the Embassy isn’t taking any chances with us, because it somehow requires four guards for Colonel Catallus to walk us back. Or he’s just trying to intimidate us.

It’s working.

It occurs to me that I could try to probe their minds, look for a new way out, and I even spend a few minutes contemplating how I could accidentally bump into the guard in front of me, to heighten the connection. Then
I give up. I’m too tired, and it takes too much out of me. And I just smell too damn bad.

Not Ro, though. Ro stands a little taller, next to the Sympas. I think he likes feeling dangerous.

We arrive at Colonel Catallus’s classroom—at least, that’s what he calls this version of his interrogation chamber. It’s a meeting room with glass walls and a round table, in the center of the Embassy library.

Basically, a jail cell.

Through the glass, I can see Tima and Lucas waiting inside. Lucas has his face buried in a small, flat screen when we push through the doors. Tima is next to him, pulling on the ends of her silver hair as she reads over his shoulder. There with Lucas, she looks much more content than when we last saw her at breakfast.

Almost happy, even.

I pull my eyes away from her and examine the rest of the room. It’s more of a fishbowl than a classroom, barely big enough for the five of us. Beyond the glass walls, there are books as far as I can see, more books than in all the black markets in the Hole. Real books, paper books. Digi-text on a row of screens. Together, they fill a room bigger than the cafeteria.

I can also see our Sympa patrol, standing at attention by the entrance to the library.

Waiting.

Lucas doesn’t look up. His face flickers with the reflected light of the scrolling screen. Then we come closer, and both Tima and Lucas react like they’ve just been slapped in the face.

“What—is that—smell?” Lucas practically shouts, grabbing his nose, pushing back his chair.

“Garbage,” says Tima with a smile. “Or maybe that’s just what the Grass smell like.” She pushes back next to him, hovering.

Where we both know she most likes to be.

I take a step closer to her, and I hope I look threatening, because that’s how I feel.

“A garbage barge? That leads to an incinerator? Really? Is that the best you could come up with?”

Ro grabs my arm. Lucas steps in front of Tima. All four of us are locked in an impasse.

It’s Colonel Catallus who finally breaks the standoff.

“That’s enough. Take a seat. The adrenaline is fascinating, but tiresome. And I’ve no need for more data today, not on any one of you.”

None of us move. He smiles. “Or do we need to bring the guards all the way
into
the classroom?”

Ro and Lucas stare at each other. Tima glowers at me. Colonel Catallus shakes his head. “Fine. Take your time. I’m happy to lock you down until you’ve had your fun. It’s all the same to me. I have work to do.”

He closes the glass door behind him.

Lucas and Ro are now inches apart from each other. “You don’t really want to do this, do you?” Lucas pushes his hand against Ro’s chest. Big mistake.

“No, I’m pretty sure I do.” Ro smiles, wrapping his fist in Lucas’s shirt.

I speak up to Tima, over Ro’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to sell us out to Catallus.”

Tima sniffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought you were looking for a ride out of here. It’s not my fault you got caught.” Ro growls. Tima puts him on edge almost as much as Lucas does.

I stare at her. “Why do you hate us so much?”

She spits the words back at me. “Why are you even here? Since when did they start testing Grass like you?”

“Why don’t you ask your mommy?” Ro steps closer to Lucas.

Tima rolls her eyes, and it’s all I can do not to grab her myself, and I shout, “You think we want to be here? You think we had a choice in this? The minute we get the chance, we’ll be gone. That’s a promise.”

Lucas’s eyes narrow as I say the words. Ro stays close, and I’m aware of every inch of him. Part of him is enjoying this. Part of Ro has enjoyed this entire day, even the garbage.

Not Lucas. I can feel him recede, as Ro begins to surge. Battle is Ro’s natural state. He likes the rush of
adrenaline, the push of uncertainty, the risk of death. As long as it’s not mine. It’s only the threat to me that is making him nervous, even now.

Ro pulls Lucas in, raising his fist.

“Stop it,” Tima blurts out, dragging herself between them.

In a blur—in a split second—I watch Tima’s arm go flying toward Ro, and then I see Ro rearing back, hollering.

“Ow! What was that? You shocked me.”

“I didn’t shock you.” Tima sounds confused.

“You did. Look…”

There, around Ro’s wrist, is what looks like a rope burn—a red, searing line that wraps around his arm, precisely where Tima’s hand touched him.

Tima stares at the mark.

Lucas backs away from both of them, from us.

Tima glowers at him. “All I was going to say was that you’re fools if you don’t know what he’s doing right now.” She looks up at the ceiling, calling toward the grating. “Orwell?”

“Yes, Tima?”

“Can you bring up a visual on Colonel Catallus? I need to ask him something, face-to-face.”

“It would be my pleasure, Tima.” Behind her, Colonel Catallus’s face appears on the wide screen that blankets one side of the classroom wall.

He’s standing in the library, in front of a bank of
screens. All of which are streaming a live feed of us. He’s watching.

Of course he is.

“Tima Li has a question for you, sir.”

Colonel Catallus looks startled. Then he recovers, with another of his creepy smiles. “And?”

“I just wanted to ask you if we passed your little test, now. Sir.” Her face is completely innocent, but the screen flickers off.

He’s back in the classroom within twenty seconds.

I wonder if that is a yes or a no.

“I’m so glad to see you’re all getting along,” Colonel Catallus says. “And how is your arm, Ro? Tima hasn’t hurt more than your pride, I hope.”

Nobody says a word. I don’t smile, and I don’t respond. I make a point of shutting everyone out, of not seeing anything about Catallus. Not cats or girls or walls of ice. Whatever is going on in there with him, I don’t want to know. It’s safer that way.